


Second Chances

by jabotus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Cars, M/M, mansion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jabotus/pseuds/jabotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean accepts a job stealing cars only he is betrayed by his partners, Bela and Gordon.  When he is arrested, somebody from his past intervenes and he is not only spared a prison sentence, but offered a job and another chance at love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

“Sir.”  Dean slid out from the driver’s seat allowing the other man to take his place in the Mercedes.  The well-dressed man reeking of expensive cologne handed him a couple of dollar bills.     

“Thank you.”  Dean smiled and accepted the money.  Cheap bastard, he thought as he pocketed the money.  He returned to his post where Andy was waiting.

“Please tell me you get better tips than this.”

“Sometimes.”

“This job sucks.”

“It pays some of the bills.”  Andy’s smile was half-hearted.  “It’s easier than my other job cleaning...”

“Look alive boys.”  Uriel tossed a set of keys to Andy.  “The black Porsche.  Don’t keep Dr. Visyak waiting.” 

“Yes sir.”  Andy shrugged and headed to the parking lot.  

“Dean, we don’t have all night,” Bela’s annoyance clearly conveying through his earpiece. 

“Give me a few more minutes,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Uriel eyed him suspiciously.

“Nothing sir.”

“Oh, now that’s what I’m buying.”  Dean glanced over his shoulder at Garth.  “Once I land my big role, that is.”  Dean rolled his eyes.  Actors.  The car did catch his eye though.  It was a beauty.  It was perfect.

“I’m done shopping.  Meet me at the corner in three,” he spoke softly so only Bela would hear.

“Ok Dean.  We’ll be there,” Bela responded.

The car came to a stop and Dean stepped up to the driver’s side of the brand new Lamborghini to open it for the owner. 

“Welcome to Matteo’s.”  Dean dutifully said as the owner, a man a few years older than him slipped out of his car.

“Best Italian in California,” he said out loud in a foreign accent.  “Though that’s not saying much when you’ve lived in Italy.”  He smiled politely at Dean.  Dean didn’t know if he was supposed to respond or not so he settled for a slight nod.  He had never been to Italy and couldn’t even afford a slice of bread at this restaurant.    

Once he stepped aside, Dean slid inside the grey Lamborghini.  It still had the new car smell.  He grinned as he thought of the money they would reap in with tonight’s load.  “Bela, you won’t believe what I just got my hands on.”  He stepped on the brake to switch gears when the passenger side door opened.

“I’m sorry.  One second please.  I forgot my notes.”  Dean eased off the brake and glimpsed over just as the man lifting up a folder looked up.  Azure was Dean’s first thought and yet that didn’t even begin to describe the shade of blue eyes looking back at him.  He had never seen a blue comparable that…no that wasn’t true…but that was a long time ago.  Dean tried to pull away from the familiar eyes only to realize the blue-eyed man was staring at him as well.  He looked as surprised as Dean felt. 

“What’s going on Dean?”  Bela’s voice in his earpiece pulled him out of the staring contest.  Dean blinked and turned away.  The memory fading before Dean could fully recall it.

“Your friend is waiting,” Dean prompted. 

“Sorry.  Thank you.”  The man moved away and shut the door.  Unsettled by the strange encounter, Dean drove the car around the corner as soon as the man stepped to the front walk of the restaurant.  From the rear-view mirror, Dean could see that the man was watching the car.

Bela and Gordon were waiting impatiently at the corner.  She yanked open the door. 

“What the hell was that?”

“I think I knew him.”

“Good way to get yourself picked out of a line-up Dean.”  Gordon warned. 

“It was nothing, I swear it.  And nobody is going to be in any line-up.”  Dean held up two sets of keys he had pocketed early.  The red Ferrari and the yellow Hummer.  Will those do?”

“Oh yeah.  Ferrari is mine.”  She snatched the keys from Dean, took the one she wanted before handing the other to Gordon.  “Let’s get the hell out of here, boys.”  Bela spun on her heels and went to get her car.

Gordon studied Dean a moment too long.  “You look spooked Dean.  You’re not feeling your conscious kicking in just ‘cause the car may belong to someone you might know.”

“I’m fine.  Go on.  I need to get out of here before someone wonders why I’m taking so long.”

“Or worse, that you’re not an employee.”  Gordon grinned. 

“Definitely worse.”

 

~*~

 

 “Yes, sir.  I’ll take care of it.”  Bela sighed and ended the call. 

“So what’s the verdict?”  Gordon asked.

“Pick-up is in half an hour.  And we will be splitting $10,000.  How’s that for payday?” 

“Sounds like we celebrate.”  Gordon reached into the tiny fridge he found left behind in the abandoned warehouse.  He pulled out some beers he stashed in there earlier and tossed one to Dean who caught it easily.   Bela wrinkled her nose, but took the beer Gordon held out for her.  Why she had to act like she was some high-class bitch, Dean would never understand.  She was a thief, no better than him or Gordon.  Only she had the contacts they didn’t.

While Gordon rambled on with what he would do with his share, Dean moved out of the small office to the open floor where the cars were parked.  They had stolen nine cars in four days.  He wasn’t proud of this.  If Sammy, his little brother ever found out what he’d been reduced to doing to get by…well Dean didn’t want to know.  And he wouldn’t, because Sam would never know.  Dean would send a check like always so his brother could stay in college and become a lawyer.  Though the irony was not lost on him that if he was caught, Dean himself would need a good lawyer to stay out of prison.

As soon as he got paid, he was done.  This was a one-time action, he’d sworn to himself when Bela offered him a chance for easy money.  He’d have enough to pay his overdue rent and to tide him over while he searched for a legit job.  Maybe even a real valet job, though Dean wasn’t too thrilled about wearing uniforms.  He had done service jobs before and usually had not been able to keep the job.  So what if he wasn’t inclined to being polite to idiots.  Especially rich, snobby idiots who deserved to have their fancy cars stolen.  They only stole from rich bastards who could afford to replace the car even if their insurance didn’t.  Even bastards with the most incredible blue eyes…

Shit.  Finishing his beer, Dean found himself standing beside the Lamborghini.  Where the hell had that guy come from?  And why had he looked so familiar?  Glimpsing inside the car, he caught sight of a bulky case of some kind.  Curious, he opened the door to get a better look.  It was an instrument case.  Dean pulled it closer and snapped open the lid.  Inside lay what seemed to be an expensive looking…violin?  No a cello. Violins were smaller weren’t they?  Dean wondered which of the two men in the car it had belonged to.  

Dean was so wrapped in his discovery, he didn’t hear anybody come up behind him.  There was a sickening thud immediately followed by pain in his left temple.  He fell against the car, and saw Gordon reflected in the glass.  He was holding a baseball bat in his hands.

“I’m sorry Dean, but I just don’t like to share.”  The second blow knocked him out cold.

 

~*~

 

The pounding in his skull was so loud even his ears could physically hear it.  The sound echoed in a disconcerting way.  Dean moaned and tried to move which only sent another wave of pain crashing through his skull.

“Sir, please exit the vehicle.”  Another series of pounding, but it wasn’t in his head as he first had thought.  It was somewhere nearby though.  Forcing his eyes open, he was nearly blinded by a bright light.  The light shifted away, and Dean could make out a steering wheel in front of him. 

“Sir, please exit the vehicle.  Keep your hands where I can see them.” 

What the hell?  Dean glanced out the window and broke out in a cold sweat.  A cop was standing outside his door.  Only he wasn’t in his car.  It was the silver Lamborghini.  Dean raised a hand to the new lump in his left temple.  Gordon had knocked him out with a baseball bat.  He should be thankful he was still alive.

“May I ask what this is about, officer?” 

“This vehicle was reported stolen from a restaurant an hour ago.”

For a second, he considered starting the car and speeding away, but with a hasty assessment he saw the keys were not in the ignition and his legs were crammed up to his chin.  Someone short had driven the car to wherever it was they left him.  Then a tip to the police and while he is being interrogating, the other stolen cars are loaded and moved out of the city. 

“I’m going to ask one more time.  Please step out of the vehicle.”  And what if he didn’t?  Would he shoot him?  Dean didn’t really want to find out so he slowly reached for the door handle.  The door was locked so he unlocked it, all the while moving with deliberate gestures.  The cop stepped back a few paces, a gun and flashlight pointed at Dean as he slid out from the driver’s seat, hands up in the air.  Another cop stepped in from the side and grabbed his wrists.  Dean was forced to turn, and then slammed against the car before being handcuffed.  His cranium screamed against the sudden movements and only by biting his lip, Dean was able to keep the scream internal.  

“You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and will…”  Dean tuned him out as he fought to stay conscious.  Did he have the right to ask for a doctor?  Again Dean kept silent.  Sam always said he would get into trouble with his sarcastic remarks.  Now was probably one of those times.    

The officer pulled at his arm to lead him to the squad car, its lights flashing harshly against the poorly lit street.  Dean had done some questionable things in his life, but nothing to be arrested for.  Is this what his life had been reduced to?  The scapegoat for some low end car thieves?  Whatever happened though, Dean swore if he ever saw Gordon or Bela again, they were going to wish they never heard the name Dean Winchester.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mr. Winchester.” 

“Can we just get this over with?” Dean looks around the nearly empty police department.

“What’s the hurry?  I’ve got all night.”  Officer Henriksen sits at the desk beside Dean, eyes focused on the computer screen.  The officer frowned as his frustration settled in when he couldn’t find any prior arrests on one ‘Dean Winchester.’

“Having trouble officer?”  Dean smirked when the man glared at him.

“Fine.  So you’ve never been caught before.”

“As I said earlier, I was just using the car to go out to buy a snack during my break when I was attacked.  The guy knocked me out.  Your city’s fine officers found me.”

“What did he hit you with?”

“Baseball bat.”  Officer Henriksen didn’t look convinced.

“Dude I have a knot on my head!  I should be in a hospital.”

“Look here, dude, I’ve had five cars reported stolen in the last two days.  Your buddies have left you out to dry, so you might as well turn them in.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you stole the car?”

“I borrowed the car.  I was going to return it after I went through a drive-in.”

“Do you admit the car doesn’t belong to you?”

“How many valets do you know can afford a Lamborghini?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Only if you answer mine, why is smart guy like you working in theft?  Why aren’t you a homicide detective?  Or maybe FBI?” 

“That is none of your concern.  What is…”

“Officer Henriksen?”  Dean and Henriksen glanced at the young man who hesitated in the doorway.  Dean recognized him as the officer from the front desk. 

“Not now, Adam.”

“But he says it’s about Dean Winchester.”  He gestured to the front desk which was visible behind a clear glass barrier.  Turning his head around to look, Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift.  It was the blue-eyed man from the restaurant.  He quickly turned back around.  Henriksen was watching him.

“OK.”  He reached out to ensure himself Dean was still handcuffed to the desk before standing.  Dean watched him go and caught sight of the blue-eye man once again.  He was staring at Dean.  It was more curiosity then menacing, but it unnerved Dean all the same.  Only when Henriksen approached him, did he finally look away. 

The glass barrier was soundproof and Dean couldn’t hear a word they said.  Henrikson seemed to be getting angry though and spun around as if to leave.  He didn’t get far when he paused to pull out his cell phone.  Stepping back into the office area, he answered gruffly.

“What is it now?...Oh?...Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have…Sir?”  His eyes widen as he glanced at Dean. Then his gaze shifted to the blue-eyed man who had sat down and was staring at the floor. 

“But sir this must be a mistake.  This guy is…yes sir.  I understand sir.  I will see you when you get in.”  Henriksen disconnected the call and glared at the phone.  He mumbled something under his breath before stomping over to where Dean was.

“I have no idea how the hell you have any connection to the state governor,” Henriksen said as he pulled out his keys and proceeded to unlock the handcuffs, “but it won’t happen again.”

The officer stepped back from Dean with a final glare.  “The next time you screw up, I swear you will not get away with it.”

Not exactly sure what was going on, Dean didn’t move.

“Get the hell out of here.  You’re free to go.  Your friend Mr. Novak just vouched your stupid story.”

Dean didn’t waste another second to get out of there. 

After collecting his wallet, a grand total of $2 back in his pocket, from a pretty blonde officer at the booking desk, he finally made it outside.  Nobody tried to stop him and the blue-eyed man was gone from the front waiting area.  It was 3 AM and he was miles from his apartment, but he was a free man and even the smoggy city air seemed fresher than he ever remembered it being.

“Hello Dean.”  His heart leaping into his throat, Dean pivoted around to face his attacker.  He was not going down twice in one night without a fight. 

 “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”  Dean took in the well-dressed, blue-eyed man standing in front of him.  He didn’t look threatening at all.  Feeling ridiculous, Dean lowered his arms to his sides.

“Yeah, well, wear bells or something.”  The man’s face scrunched up in confusion, but then the expression faded and he just stood there staring at Dean.

“So I guess I owe you one for whatever it was you did to get me out of there.”

“I merely called on a favor from my cousin Crowley.  He is most efficient at getting what he wants when he wants.”  That didn’t sound ominous.

“Ok.  So thanks.”  Dean wasn’t sure he cared to know what he was going to have to do to return the favor, but he could tell the man had something to add except he wasn’t saying it.  The silence was discomforting.  “If there’s…”

“I told the officer I knew you.”  The man finally said in a rush, “I didn’t lie about that.”  His blue eyes beseeching Dean to agree and whatever unease there had been between them seemed to vanish.  Dean took a few seconds to study his face, but other than his eyes being familiar, Dean couldn’t recall him at all.

“You look familiar, but I don’t remember you.”  Disappointed, the man dropped his eyes to the sidewalk.  Damn, Dean actually felt bad he couldn’t remember.  “I’m sorry,” he added though he knew it wouldn’t help.  “I went to a lot of schools.”

Without lifting his eyes, the man nodded.  “Your father was in the army specializing in advanced weaponry.  He trained soldiers how to use the new weapons and it was cheaper to send him to the soldiers rather than the soldiers to him so you were always moving.”  Dean scarcely kept his mouth from dropping open in astonishment.  That was not something he had shared with a lot of people.

“It’s all right.  You must have met a lot of people and it would be difficult to recall every single one of them.”  The man raised he head and offered a weak smile.

“It is.”

“Do you need a job?”  The question came out of nowhere and caught Dean off guard.

“A job?” 

“I could use a driver.  Right now I have to rely on Ellen or Balthazar, or take a taxi…and I’m sure their sick and tired of me after two years.”

“A driver?  Like a chauffeur?”

He nodded. 

Seriously, what was wrong with this guy?  Dean had stolen his car only hours ago!  If Gordon hadn’t betrayed him, they wouldn’t even be standing here now.  Dean would have a handful of cash and this guy’s car would be two states away instead of a police impound lot.

“No, I don’t need a job,” Dean responded hastily, feeling somewhat insulted though he did need a job.

“Oh…I just thought since you…” he glanced over at the police station as if somebody might be listening in.  Shit, Henriksen probably was watching them. 

A card was pushed into his palm.  “If you change your mind, my address is on the back.”

The name on the front read Castiel Novak and Dean realized the man had not bothered to give his name.  It didn’t jog his memory at all.  It was a business card for a music company.  Castiel Novak was the company’s composer.  So that would explain the cello in the back seat of the car.  The cello that was still in the car.  Somebody was going to miss that.  Dean lifted his head to mention it only to find himself alone.  Novak had vanished. 

 

~*~

 

Two hours later Dean reached his apartment.  All he wanted was to shower, eat, and sleep for a week to forget this day.  Except he had no food and the shower would be somewhat above freezing since the landlord refused to repair the water heater until he caught up with his rent.  

All this fell to the last of his worries, when Dean tried to unlock his door.  The key didn’t work.  What the hell!!  Dean banged on the door only to enrage the fury of a dog on the other side of the door.  He heard a growl and the animal slam into the door which he knew wasn’t that strong.  Not wanting to become dog chow, he went back down the stairs to the landlord’s apartment and pounded until he heard yelling from inside.  The door opened as far as the chain would allow.

“What do you want?” 

“You changed the lock on my apartment.”  Miller laughed. 

“It’s not your apartment.  Not when you haven’t paid anything in months.”

“I told you I would have the money soon.”

“And do you have my money?”

“I can have it by tomorrow.”

“Too bad.  Somebody with money in their hand just moved in.  Now leave before I call the cops.”  Dean really didn’t want to deal with the police again.

“What did you do with my things?”

“In the dumpster where they belong.”  The door was slammed shut in his face.  Dean hit the door once more, not that it did him any good.

Swearing every curse word he knew and then some, Dean made his way through the filthy halls and out the back door.  It smelled like a port-a-pot as was the norm.  Dean scowled at the dumpster.  Damn it, he was going to have to do it.  They were his only clothes.  Taking a deep breath, Dean hauled himself up and over.

By the time, he collected most of his clothes, the sky was getting lighter.  It took longer to find his tape collection which he refused to leave behind.  He didn’t care if he didn’t have a tape player to listen to them.  Those tapes were priceless, to him at least.  Sam would be laughing his ass off at him for trying to save them. 

Dean took a minute to rest.  He’d found a duffle bag and stuffed his meager belongings inside.  How pathetic was it that everything he owned in the world could fit in one bag?  He didn’t even have a place to put the bag.  Lifting a hand to push back his sweaty hair, he caught sight of a green-black…something on his hand.  With a grimace, he wiped his hand on the side of his jeans.  He really needed to clean up before doing anything.  A cheap hotel that leant by the hour would at least have a working shower. 

Unfortunately, the money in his wallet had not magically multiplied, Dean thought as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket.  There was something else there though.  Dean lifted up the piece of paper to the light and read the white business card then flipped it over.  The address scribbled in messy handwriting was one on the other side of L.A.  Dean stared at it for a long time.  It seemed he had only two options left to him.  Take the chauffer job or go crawling to his brother for help.  Of course going to Sam was not really an option.  Dean was the big brother and he was supposed to take care of Sam, not the other way around.  His problems were not going to become Sam’s problems. 

Decision made, Dean stood and picked up his earthly possessions.  The bus stop was about a block away from here.


End file.
